


Concoctions

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Caring, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Óin is always tending to his patients and never to himself; little Glóin decides to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concoctions

Óin startled when he heard his little brother’s voice cry, “Br’Óin!”

This endearing combination of ‘brother’ and ‘Óin’ caused the young doctor to look up. “What is it, Glóin?”

There was a quiet clinking as a plate slid onto the edge of his desk. Óin blinked in perplexion at the strange concoction that sagged in the center of it.

“What is that?” Óin asked curiously.

“Lunch for you, Br’Óin!” Glóin exclaimed proudly, standing on tiptoe so his round brown eyes appeared over the desktop.

“Looks...yummy,” Óin tried to sound enthusiastic for his younger brother’s sake. “But unfortunately I can’t eat it right now. I have paperwork that needs to be sorted so I know which patients will be coming in tomorrow.”

“No!” Glóin barked, his voice high and sharp in the way of young children. Óin flinched slightly at the Dwarfling’s tone.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“S’always patients, never Br’Óin. No one helps,” Glóin quavered, looking truly distraught as he revealed this to Óin. “I watch. I see.” The plate edged forward as Glóin pushed it with his fingertips. “Pleeeasse, B’Óin.”

Óin knew that if he didn’t consent to his brother’s pleas there would be runny tears and wails broken by choked sobs. It always broke his heart when Glóin cried, so he would do anything to prevent it—even eat this unidentified object called ‘lunch’.

“Alright, Glóin, it’s okay. I’ll eat it,” Óin hastily soothed his brother, whose eyes were starting to sparkle suspiciously. He drew the plate under his chin, delicately picked up the gooey sandwich-type of desert Glóin had created and bit in.

Glóin watched anxiously as Óin’s eyes went wide. “Don’t taste bad, do it?” Glóin asked.

“This is _fantastic_!” Óin gasped around the food in his mouth.  “What’d you put in it?!”

Glóin blushed. “S’chocolate from Dale and honey from Ama on a baked biscuit. I call a ‘s’more’ cos people always ask for more.”

“How long ago did you invent this?” Óin asked in awe as he swallowed the last bite, licking his fingers to get any last traces of chocolate.

“A few weeks ago,” Glóin answered bashfully. “Wanted t’ come earlier, but Br’Óin was always busy...”

Óin leapt to his feet and strode around the desk. Kneeling to be at eyelevel with his brother, Óin declared, “Hey, now. You come any time you want to see me, Glóin. I’ll always make time for you. Always.”

Glóin threw his arms around Óin’s neck and nuzzled his own fluff-covered face against Óin’s whiskery one. “I’ll come again tomorrow, Br’Óin!”

Óin laughed and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t forget to bring another s’more!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thus Middle Earth was changed forever: Middle Earth, meet s'mores! :D


End file.
